A roar bellowed in the darkness, and a tall, ginger-haired man in studded armor lumbered into the light, wielding a large greataxe the size of a boulder. He leapt at the creature, swinging with full force, but within the blink of an eye, the centipede used its armored tail to parry away the axe. It raced back up the wall beside them, leaving Icarus gasping for air.
Two figures emerged from behind the tall man—a girl with long, curly dark locks and toffee-toned skin held a bow aimed at the centipede, while a lean young man with bright green eyes and spiky brown hair glanced at the hatchet on the floor with a confused expression.
"It just bounced off...?"
The tall man in studded armor glanced at them quickly from behind his helm. "Theo, get the kid outta here. Tara, aim for its underside; we're dealing with a whiptail." At once, the two did as instructed, the girl taking her stand behind the man with her bow raised, and the boy dashing to Icarus' side to retrieve his hatchet off the ground.
"I'll be taking that. You still alive, mate?"
Icarus nodded, grasping at his chest to feel for his broken ribs. Blood spewed from his lips, and the young man stumbled back, wiping furiously at his clothes. "Oh gods, that's fuckin' gross! Yeah, sorry to break it to you, but I uh—don't think you're making it."
He sized him up with a flicker of his eyes to Icarus' missing shoes and back to his crumpled limbs. A look of disbelief crossed his face, and he took hold of his arm, pulling it over his own shoulder and dragging Icarus to lie against the furthest wall. There was a shifting in his insides as he rose from the floor, and he winced as a searing warmth burned through his broken bones.
"Damn, you weigh nothing! Skipping out on meals now, haven't we?" He lifted Icarus' chin to meet his gaze, and Icarus noticed he seemed troubled, but despite that, a grin crossed his face and he gave him a thumbs up. "Not to worry. My friends over there will take care of that ugly mug. They're pretty good at this kinda thing." He waved to the others, who had begun their assault on the centipede. Quick as a snake, it evaded all their strikes, swinging furiously with its tail, only to be parried by the greataxe and assaulted by a spray of quick arrows from the woman.
Icarus coughed through ragged breaths, his limbs writhing in pain as the blazing warmth began to race up and down his chest, spreading down his legs, toes, and up his arms to his fingertips. Regardless, he regained a brief sense of relief from the lightheadedness, surmising his adrenaline was doing its work.
"Don't look so grim. You did pretty well for yourself to still be in one piece, right? Look at you! Can't say I woulda been the same in your shoes," the young man continued rambling with a forced smile. He was clearly trying to make him feel better, and Icarus appreciated that. Yet, he wasn't dying though, was he?
I feel just fine?
Perhaps a bit beat up, but as the seconds ticked by, the screaming in his bones withered to a dull throb. As if by rebuttal, Icarus coughed again, and a hard lump of blood immediately splattered to the floor.
Yikes.
"N-No, it's okay. We gotta k-kill that thing, right? Come on," Icarus muttered, rising to his feet with a hand on the wall. The pain in his foot was agonizing, but bearable, and although a big part of him was still screaming to flee as fast as his legs could take him, he felt a greater sense of frustration welling within him. Frustration for his weakness, frustration for having to be saved yet again.
No, not again. He would not allow what happened to Sable to happen again. He had to be strong. For her.
"Get back in there? Are you raving mad? You're falling apart here!" The boy—Theo—eyes shot up and down his disheveled figure, confusion riddling his expression. "How are you even standing? That thing nearly tore your leg off! Hey! Get your ass back here!" Icarus shrugged off his arm and pointed to his friends, annoyance bubbling.
"Dude, I'm fine. More so, look at your friends—they need us, right?"
Theo knew he was right. One look at his friends was enough to see they were clearly in a stalemate. They were agile, skilled in maneuvering away from the creature's tail and countering with their own well-timed attacks, but they were sweating, and only now had Icarus just noticed the dried blood and marred bits littering their clothes from a previous battle. They were tired, and this creature—it was equally deadly, scampering up the walls and tossing broken stones in their direction to weaken their footing. What they needed was an opening.
"I know, but..." The boy—Theo—gripped tightly onto something around his neck, and a look of helplessness crossed his face. Finally, his expression steeled, and he gave a curt nod. "Fine, but it's your funeral." He readied his hatchet and pulled a second one from his side, glancing at Icarus' empty hands with a raised brow.
"Unarmed, aye?" Theo's voice was laced with doubt as he glanced at his empty hands.
Icarus managed a strained smile, recalling the silver javelin he'd lost when arriving here. If only he still had it. Clenching his fists, a shiver ran down his spine, the adrenaline coursing through his veins mingling with a lingering exhaustion. "I've made it this far," he murmured, more to himself than to Theo.
With a swift motion, Icarus scooped up the nearest rock and charged forward. Theo was right behind him, his footsteps echoing his own as they leapt over the shattered stones littering the floor. Ahead, Tara unleashed a rapid volley of arrows, her aim true as they thudded into the centipede's armored hide. The creature, a monstrous, writhing thing, had backed itself into a corner too steep to climb, its many legs scrabbling against the stone as it lashed out at the tall man who was dodging with a noticeable limp, his every movement betraying the pain of a grievous wound.
Icarus pushed himself to run faster, ignoring the begging in his limbs to stop. Pain was a dull roar in the back of his mind, drowned out by the rising tide of determination. He stepped around the tall man, letting out a battle cry that was more a wail of frustration than anything else. Noticing him, the man immediately reached out a hand to stop him, his fingers brushing the air just behind his sleeve.
"Wait, don't! I have a—"
But it was too late. The centipede's head snapped toward Icarus, and he barely had time to react. Diving into a roll, the ground scraped his skin as he evaded its strike. Pain lanced through his back, but he forced himself onward, clambering onto a boulder. With all the strength he could muster, Icarus leapt toward the creature, swinging the rock toward its head—
And then his world exploded in pain.
A brutal force slammed into his side, sending him tumbling across the rock-strewn ground like a ragdoll. His vision blurred as his body rolled, scraping flesh from his arms and face, a sharp pop reverberating through his shoulder as it dislocated. Icarus came to a halt in a crumpled heap, pain radiating through every inch of his battered body.
"No! Theo! I thought I told you to—"
"I'm sorry! I tried, but he wouldn't—"
Their voices faded in and out, distant and distorted, as though Icarus were underwater. He couldn't focus. His thoughts were scattered, fragmented. His face felt oddly light, and his limbs refused to obey his commands. The world around him was a cacophony of noise—screams, shouts, the clatter of stone against stone. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted to close his eyes, to surrender to the darkness that beckoned so invitingly.
Fool. How many times must you retread this? I have given you another path, so take it. Do not waste her efforts.
Images flashed through his mind—magenta eyes, fierce with determination; Sable. A man, beaten down yet refusing to yield; Shrew. The Beast, a monstrous force of nature, pounding his saviors into the ground like a savage animal. His own fear. His uselessness. His misery. The events at the waterbed—all of it surged up within Icarus, a torrent of emotions he could no longer suppress.
Gritting his teeth, he lifted his chin off the cold stone, forcing air into his lungs despite the pain that racked his body. A familiar feeling spread through his chest—an unbridled hunger, a fierce anger, a burning need for retribution. He wouldn't be helpless. Not again. Never again.
His vision cleared, and Icarus saw the man still battling the centipede, Theo beside him, his hatchets swinging wildly at the creature's legs. The beast's tail lashed out, nearly decapitating Theo before the warrior shoved him back to safety. Behind them, Tara had abandoned her bow, wielding a javelin with a determined look.
Icarus pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling like jelly beneath him. Every step was agony, his body screaming in protest, but he ignored it. He had to keep moving. He had to help them.
"Finn! Slow down, it's baiting you! You need to let us help!" Tara's voice was thick with frustration.
The armored man—Finn—grunted in response, propping up his axe to block just as the centipede's tail smashed into his weapon with the force of a battering ram. The impact sent him skidding across the ground, his feet dragging over the rough stones. The veins in his neck bulged, his face contorted with the strain, and a thin trickle of blood ran down from beneath his helm.
The centipede was massive, a monstrous amalgamation of chitin and muscle, its segmented body coiling and uncoiling with terrifying speed. It was a creature born of nightmares, its many legs clawing at the ground as it struggled to break free from the corner it had backed into. The only way out was through them, and it knew it.
Finn held his ground, his axe locked with the creature's tail in a desperate test of strength. But he was tiring, and the beast knew it. It pushed harder, forcing Finn back inch by inch, his boots scraping against the stone as he fought to hold his ground. Tara and Theo were doing their best to help, but the centipede's erratic movements made it nearly impossible to land a decisive blow.
"N-No! Stay back! It knows you're still weak from the Manticore. You need to let me handle—"
Icarus watched in horror as the beast's head reared back, its mandibles clicking ominously as it prepared to strike while Finn was distracted. Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the point of the creature's impending attack. Tara saw it too and immediately dashed in its direction.
But it was too late.
Finn's resilience was no match for the creature. With a thunderous pound of its tail, the centipede sent him sprawling across the floor. His dirtied armor clattered loudly against the rock as he landed in a heap.
"Finn!" Tara cried out. Without hesitation, she charged at the centipede just as it coiled its tail to strike again. With a swift, practiced motion, she hurled her javelin forward. The long rod found its mark, driving deep into the creature's neck, right between the gaps in its armored plates. The centipede screeched like a banshee, its cry echoing through the tunnel as it lashed out wildly. Its tail struck the roof, dislodging large chunks of rock that rained down around them.
A chunk of stone cracked against Tara's face, and she crumpled to the ground, her body going limp. Theo rushed to her side, deftly maneuvering through the falling debris. He grabbed her under the shoulders, dragging her back to safety. Instinctively, Icarus threw up his hands to shield his head, bracing for the impact of the falling rocks. But then he realized—the pain in his limbs had vanished.
Tentatively, Icarus stepped forward, curiosity bubbling through the cracks of his earlier frustration. Tensing, he waited for the screaming in his legs, but against all odds—he was alright—in fact, more than alright. He felt energized. He could do this. He could kill that thing.
The centipede, sensing Theo and Tara's retreat, scuttled after them, its crooked posture betraying its injury. Dark blood oozed from the wound where the javelin had struck, staining its segmented body.
Stepping over Finn's crumpled form, the creature suddenly leapt, narrowly avoiding a fatal strike to its underside. Finn, with grim determination, swung a short silver knife, managing to sever one of the centipede's legs. The beast flailed on the ground, struggling to crawl away, but Finn was relentless. He pursued it with the blade, only to stumble and collapse, clutching his knee in agony.
Not wasting any time, Icarus bolted toward him, driven by his newfound vigor. His body still ached, but he felt stronger, more capable. Icarus threw himself over Finn, shielding him with his arms as more rocks tumbled down, littering him with bruises. When the barrage ceased, Icarus met his stern gaze, his soft brown eyes betraying the pain he endured, yet he persisted.
"You? How are you still—?"
"I don't know," Icarus muttered truthfully. "But we need to do something. I think you really pissed it off."
Although injured, the centipede was clearly enraged by the loss of its limb. It swung its tail madly, thrashing about without restraint. Yet it seemed hesitant, almost overwhelmed, as if something held it back.
"Why is it—?"
"It can't see," Finn mumbled through hollowed breaths. "It reads vibrations in the earth to track its prey. The debris must've confused it, but we're running out of time." Finn grasped Icarus' arm and pressed his knife into his hand. It was thin, its silver length engraved with intricate patterns. The hilt bore a small emblem Icarus couldn't recognize, shimmering faintly in the dark.
"I don't know who you are or where your party may be, but I can guess why you're here. I had hoped to spare my friends the risk of another battle, so I humbly ask that you be of use. I'll aim high, and you low. Understood?"
With a nod, Icarus tightened his grip on the knife, feeling its cold weight in his hand. Beside him, Finn rose to his feet, steadying himself with visible effort, and armed himself with his greataxe once more. The centipede, disoriented and enraged, continued to thrash about, its tail lashing the ground in fury. It had lost much of its deadly precision, but it was still a formidable foe. They had to act fast.
"Ready?" Finn's voice was strained, but there was no fear in his eyes, only resolve.
Taking a deep breath, Icarus recalled a final image of Sable just before she was crushed. Her focus. Her persistence. I won't let you down, he concluded.
"Ready," Icarus replied, his heart pounding in his chest.
Finn nodded, and together, they charged.
…